Another reminder of how very different they were.
But when she looked back over her shoulder and smiled, that warm, sunshine smile that made his heart trip inside his chest, he wasn’t sure he cared.
The Fall Fair had always been one of Vivi’s favorite things in the days leading up to Halloween in Graves Glen. It was always held in the same field, nestled in a valley between the hills, the whole thing ringed in fairy lights and paper lanterns, the air smelling like fried food, popcorn and cinnamon. And while people definitely brought their kids, it didn’t have quite the same family vibe as Founder’s Day always did. There was something a little wild about it, something more than a little pagan.
Tonight, the sky was mostly clear, just a few clouds scuttering over the moon, and as Vivi wrapped a set of tarot cards in silk for a woman at Gwyn’s booth, she hummed happily to herself.
“You have the annoyingly cheerful manner of a woman having an absurd amount of awesome sex,” Gwyn said as the woman walked away. There was no one else in line, so she hopped up on the counter of the booth, long legs dangling.
“I am,” Vivi said happily. “Both annoyingly cheerful and having the absurd amount of awesome sex.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Gwyn replied, but she was smiling, and she reached out, kicking Vivi gently with one orange boot. “You deserve it.”
“I kind of do, actually,” Vivi agreed, her eyes already scanning the crowd for Rhys. And as soon as she saw him, making his way toward her with several wax paper bags in hand, grinning the second their eyes met . . .
Oh god, she felt that grin everywhere. She and Rhys had spent the last few days indulging in anything they could think of, anything they wanted, their bodies picking up right where they’d left off nine years ago.
But at moments like this, her stomach full of butterflies, her cheeks aching with her smile as she watched him amble his way toward her, she worried that maybe her heart had picked up right where it left, too.
“I hope this is what you wanted, cariad,” he said, handing her one of the bags. “You would’ve thought they were made of solid gold from the line for them.”
“Thank you,” Vivi said, giving the bag the kind of look she usually reserved for Rhys. “I dream of these all year.”
“And for you,” Rhys said, handing one to Gwyn, who took it with only slightly narrowed eyes.
“You’re making my cousin very happy and bringing me caramel-apple pie? Clearly working hard at getting another nickname besides ‘dickbag,’ dickbag.”
“I live in hope,” Rhys said, leaning against the counter as he folded down the wax paper and bit into his own pie.
Vivi waited, watching him, and smiled smugly as his own expression went a little dreamy. “All right, I understand the line now,” he said, then took another bite. “Vivienne, I’m so sorry, but I’m leaving you for the woman who makes these pies.”
“She’s ninety.”
“Even so.”
Giggling, Vivi finally took a bite herself, her eyes fluttering shut at the mix of salted caramel, butter pastry and cinnamon apples. “Okay, yes, marry Mrs. Michaelson. Just make sure you invite me to the wedding and serve these, okay?”
“A deal,” he said, then reached out to shake her hand. When Vivi took it, he tugged, pulling her up to the counter so he could kiss her, and Vivi laughed against his mouth, tasting sugar and salt.
When she pulled back, Gwyn was watching them, a strange expression on her face, and suddenly a little self-conscious, Vivi wiped a stray crumb of pastry from the corner of her mouth. “What?”
“Nothing!” Gwyn said, raising both her hands, but she was smiling in a way that Vivi knew from experience meant they’d be talking later.